The H2O Cycle
by flawed logic
Summary: SxF To say Faye took Spike's death harshly would be an understatement, but little does she know, he isn't dead...and he wasn't risking his life just for Julia...[alternate series of events]...[COMPLETE!]
1. Chapter 01A

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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Of course she was in love with him.

The man made it all too easy, what with his annoyingly perfect air of nonchalance; it was as though nothing could ever touch him.

But something had. Something that had him by the heart and wouldn't let go until the nightmare ended. Something that had complicated everything and made everything seem so simple at the same time. Something that ended up being his reason for living, and reason for dying in his previously secure and promising life.

She didn't even know him when he met her. Hell, she was a popsicle at the time. All she knew was whatever had happened, it had made him the man he was, and destroyed the man he would have been. If only it hadn't been for Julia.

She who so easily stole his heart, who roped him off from the rest of the world. She...the girl who the hot-tempered vixen Faye Valentine could never be. Calm and wise, contemplative and reserved, a pale and melancholy face; glassy grey-blue eyes encasing a heart that held only mystery.

She could see why he fell in love with her; she was the dangerous, beautiful kind of ordinary that you couldn't leave alone. But the only thing Faye was interested in was the fact that she managed to break him, like a toy she got tired of playing with. And if it hadn't been for her, he would never have had to leave. She was the one thing preventing him from letting go of the past, like he had told her to do so many times.

She was the vision he had eternally burned into his right eye. He was only living to die for her.

And he did.

Why did she let herself linger in those thoughts? It brought nothing but pain, every time. Spike would have shot her if he saw her so wrapped up in her sad memories. She wished he could. If she had a woolong for every tear she had shed for him, she could pay back her veritable abyss of debt tenfold.

All the time passed since she received the information of his death served to overcome the shock of it all, but the pain would always be near. For a few weeks after the incident, Faye harbored a secret hope that one day he would come back, as if nothing had happened, and everything would go back to the way it was.

The way it was during the happiest ten months of her life.

Nothing had been even remotely the same after that week. It all happened so fast she hardly knew what exactly _had_ happened. And even after devoting so many hours, days, even straight months trying to decipher why it had to all change in a few measly days, the answer still evaded her.

She refused to let it go and chalk another one up to fate.

There must have been some kind of reason behind all of it. Why she hadn't remembered anything before she was unfrozen for so long, only to have a breakthrough at the same time Ed found her father and left her beloved Bebop. Faye didn't like admitting it, but along the way she had developed a sort of soft spot for the kid. How could anyone not somewhat admire the way she was always able to bounce back from anything, with energy and brilliance to burn? Faye even found herself missing the company of that damn mutt. She was only beginning to adjust to her newly-acquired past and losing the smartest two beings on the ship when he left.

She knew where he was going, and tried to stop him, but it was useless. She had to stand there, firing shots into the ceiling and watching the man she cared so deeply for walk straight into the awaiting hands of death. If the heart made a sound when it broke, there was no doubt that would have been the shatter heard round the world.

How dare he leave her so alone and betrayed like that. Where did he get the nerve to be such a fucking hypocrite? She had just proved his own point, that the past brings nothing but trouble, and he was just going to walk away so guiltlessly, using his fake eye as an excuse for confronting his demons once and for all? She didn't buy it. If Spike was rotting away in hell right then, she hoped that he knew how her heart broke in that single moment.

And she hoped he felt like shit about leaving her that way.

The Red Dragon Syndicate was dissolved shortly after that violent evening, having Vicious killed, their building more or less destroyed, and a good percentage of his flunkies killed or incapacitated. She had to hand it to him, he was a dangerous man when he was determined like that, and she didn't doubt he accomplished everything he had set out to do, including his dramatic hero's death. The few terrified guards that did manage to get away ran as fast as they could and never looked back, off to perhaps try their hand at a less dangerous line of work.

There was never any official word as to whether Spike was alive or not, but as much as she would have liked to believe he was invincible, he wasn't, and there was no way a human being can cause that much damage and not get burned along the way. But even though she knew it deep down, she could never say it out loud; as though if she confirmed it herself, he would drop down dead on the spot if he wasn't already. Like the way every time someone says "I don't believe in fairies," one of them dies.

Faye's backlash to Spike's "disappearance" was harder for Jet to take than the situation itself, having to put up with her constant moping and mood swings while simultaneously nursing a sore leg and a very beat-up Bebop. Not to mention Faye's own shot-up zip craft.

She marveled at the way he had handled Spike's death without a single tear, but he tried to comfort her in the fact that Spike was ready to go, and he was sure he went out with a "bang". He assured her that it was supposed to happen that way, that it was the death Spike had been waiting to die since long before he even met him. But she just couldn't let it go like that.

Mere weeks later, Faye was gone. She stayed in a shitty hotel near her childhood home, attempting to regain her footing and just think. The bills were paid with money she didn't have, but that wasn't anything new. Hardly eating or sleeping at all, she was wasting away before her own eyes.

It didn't matter anymore though. She was unsuccessfully devoting her life to trying to just make some sense of it all. So many memories in such a short amount of time. She couldn't keep going before she sorted everything out once and forever. She would walk to the bulldozed foundation she called home, sit down amongst the rubble, and light a cigarette every morning, rain or shine.

Hopelessly trying to push aside her more recent pain and anguish and focus on uncovering something from her past to latch onto and keep her afloat, she didn't have a clue what she was looking for, but desperately needed a distraction.

It was funny how Spike maintained his water metaphor as a raging flood of memories. And knowing his ways, Faye wouldn't be surprised if he had been aware of it. No matter how hard she tried to suppress the most painful images, the more they surged to the top and before long she was drowning in them, her conscience fighting a losing battle against the relentless storm that was her past.

She had lived entirely without one for so long, it was about time that it caught up to her.


	2. Chapter 01B

He shouldn't have survived. But he did.

Underneath his skin there was a silent battle raging. Mind over body, body over mind. Inner strength and willpower versus tremendous blood loss, a ruptured kidney, liver, and small intestine, not to mention a bullet wound in his shoulder and countless gashes, cuts, and bruises covering almost every square inch of skin.

The continuous outgoing river of his life source had depleted his levels enough to cause his central nervous system to flicker between life and death, and make him lose consciousness, at first glance, permanently. If Shin hadn't begged with his final breath for the ISSP agents, slightly too late like always, to try everything they could to save Spike, they wouldn't have bothered checking his still-faintly-beating pulse after he collapsed, and the last light burning in his body would have gone out for good.

They airlifted him from the rubble and proceeded with blood transfusions immediately, attempting to counter the one-way flow and steady the desultory pounding in his chest. The Emergency Medical Technicians, calm yet rushed, prepared mountains of gauze to be used temporarily until he could be directly operated on once they arrived at the Tharsis General Hospital.

A young EMT gulped nervously when he opened the sliced and bloodstained off-white work shirt to reveal a deep gash stretching horizontally across his abdomen, the skin surrounding it swollen and deep red. His face paled considerably, and he used a clean cloth dipped in antiseptic to clean the wound gently before applying the gauze. It wasn't his job to assess what was wrong internally, just to stop the germs and bacteria from getting inside and hopefully stop the bleeding.

He gulped again and sat back in the helicopter, removing a thin rubber glove and shaking his head slightly but keeping his eyes locked on Spike's chalk-white face covered in a thin layer of sweat, his body having gone into shock and now slowly regrouping thanks to the transfusions. "God, what happened back there?" he whispered and ruffled his short auburn hair absently with his clean hand.

There was a sudden halt in his movement and a gasp emitted from his lips as his eyes widened in realization. "Spike..._the_ Spike Spiegel?" He vaguely remembered the young teenager with the green hair, eager eyes, and absurdly self-assured smirk. But wasn't he already dead? He dropped his hand, lowered his head and moved his eyes, staring at different spots on the ground. He couldn't be the same Spike he had idolized as a kid, could he? He looked at his face again, blank as a board, concealing the all-out war on the inside.

"Hey Rocky, you alright? We're almost there."

Rocky Raines looked up at his fellow MedTech and gave an empty nod, his eyes still clouded over with confusion and shock. The copter landed in one of the designated circles on the roof of the lower sector of the building and they wheeled the stretcher off of the extended ramp and into the open doors on the side of the taller part of the building.

On that floor and several more below them were the emergency rooms, convenient for the patients wheeled in from the helicopter pad. On the first few floors of the same building were more emergency rooms, placed for their accessibility from the ambulances. Above these ten floors of emergency rooms were six floors of operating rooms, and then a cafeteria on the floor above them. In the smaller building underneath the landing pad were the offices, rooms of files, main lobby, and waiting rooms. There were also three floors with hotel-like rooms, for friends and family members of patients who desired to stay near their loved ones overnight. There were two express elevators for visitors located at the seam of the two buildings that only made stops at the hotel floors, lobby, and cafeteria, and went directly to the floors above the cafeteria, near the top, which held the short-term recovery rooms and delivery rooms, and the ones at the very peak of the hospital which held the long-term recovery rooms.

Rocky knew too well that there was nothing more depressing than being in an elevator with someone going to visit the patients in the long-term recovery unit, unless you were the one going yourself. Tragic facades devoid of everything but proof of their suffering, now only returning to remind themselves; to desperately cling to a pathetic flicker of hope left buried deep in their hearts. Most of the long-term patients were in comas, some already brain-dead. All that's left of them anymore are their still-beating hearts echoing pointlessly in their abandoned shells of bodies. No one ever had the heart to pull the plug, and as long as the rhythmic tones of the beeping heart monitor continued, their tiny flame of hope kept burning, and they never would. Just a short elevator ride with one of them is enough to break the most stoic and jaded of hearts.

Spike was operated on almost instantaneously as he was rolled into room 1012, his situation being so fragile that they needed to use one of the rooms on the same floor they walked in on. One of the nurses pulled Rocky aside as soon as he got there, and he watched as the rest of his EMT team walked back to their helicopter to prepare for response to another case.

"Rocky, honey! How have you been?"

"Mary-Ann! It's been a while. I guess I've been alright. You?"

"Peachy as ever," the rosy-cheeked, plump woman lowered her head slightly, eyes filling with pity, a few locks of curly strawberry-blonde hair spilling from under her hygienically disinfected emergency room shower cap, and she started speaking in a sympathetic tone, "and how's your father doin', hon?"

Rocky shifted slightly and looked at the floor momentarily before answering, "He uh-he's still..." he struggled with finding the right words, and Mary-Ann only nodded slowly, head cocked to one side, and patted his arm encouragingly. He hoped she would just change the subject.

"Ok hon so, this man here do you know his name?" He paused for a second, remembering the request the ISSP agent relayed to him from Shin moments before he died.

"_They're still going to chase him...you can't use his name at the hospital. Tell them that."_

Rocky pursed his lips together and came to a decision. "Mary-Ann, can you do me a favor please?"

"Anything for you, sweetie."

"Can you just take care of him without asking questions, and make sure that the bill gets sent to me?"

She looked like she was thinking it over for a minute, but gave him a quizzical look, eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to find out the reason for his strange request by merely studying his facial expression. "Of course, sweetheart. I'll do what I can. But what name should I put here on his charts? We have to call him something."

"Just call him...Tsunami."


	3. Chapter 02A

It was a chilly and misty blue morning six months after "it" happened when something else decided to catch up to her as well. She was practicing her usual morning routine, sighing deeply, leaning back against the broken fountain in her old driveway, facing the ruins and ghosts of walls that enclosed her whole childhood, a half-smoked cigarette held limp between her lips.

Familiar images flashed through her mind, her short conversation with Spike, the last time she ever saw him, replaying over and over like a broken record she didn't have the heart to turn off. It hurt every moment it poisoned her thoughts, and yet she wasn't sure she ever wanted to forget it. That glint in his left eye, the tone of his voice, the way he was moving; that familiar nonchalance completely gone. The only thing on his mind was revenge. She could only assume it had to do with his angel, Julia.

Taking her completely off-guard, the slow groan of the old gate turning on its rusted hinges reached her ears. Her reflexes won against her rational thoughts, which she was attempting to gather at that point, drawing her gun and flashing it in the direction of the offending noise, whipping her body around swiftly, but making sure to stay behind the minimal protection of the fountain base.

She glanced at the slightly parted gate, expecting to see the person who interrupted her thought pattern, and frowned in confusion when she saw nobody there. Resigning herself to the explanation that it was only the wind, she turned her body back to her former position, and shrieked when her eyes fell upon the one person, besides Spike of course, she was least expecting to see ever again.

She hardly had a split second to comprehend the sight when a familiar ball of orange hair and pure energy was launched into her stomach.

"FAYE-FAYE!!!" Ed screamed as she hugged Faye tightly before jumping back up to perform a series of elated cartwheels. Faye was left totally speechless.

"Edward is missing Faye-Faye very much and so Ed asked father-person if we can go see Faye-Faye's house because Ed knows where it is and Ed knows Faye-Faye knows too and father-person brought Ed and Ein-doggy here!" Faye glanced down, and sure enough, the little welsh corgi was standing near her left foot, panting and wagging his tiny tail merrily. Her lips curled upward in a slight smile, her first smile in months.

"E-Ed?" It was all too much for her, seeing Ed seemingly so unfazed by the past, jumping around like everything was okay. Faye looked down, tears in her eyes, and let out a small chuckle. At least someone had missed her.

"Where is Bebop-Bebop, Faye-Faye? Where are Jet-person and Spike-person? Ed would like to say hello and do they have anything for Ed to eat. Ed is hungry for Jet-person's yummy munchy crunchy bunchy fooood." At that, Faye couldn't help but let out a pained sob, the poor kid had no idea.

Ed noticed her tears, and immediately sat down directly in front of Faye, bending her neck so she was staring up into her slightly bloodshot swirling forest green eyes, glazed over now with tears flowing freely past the brink of her eyelid and traversing the well-worn path down her cheek.

"What is wrong, Faye-Faye?" Ed's voice suddenly a curious whisper.

"Ed…I left the Bebop a while ago. Jet's still there, but Spike, he-" she choked on another sob, but continued "Spike's dead." Ed blinked and sat up, momentarily subdued by the statement. Faye was wondering if Ed even understood the concept.

"Ooooooooh." Ed stared at a rock on the ground for several seconds before standing up again, and raising her hand in a mock salute to the sky. "Aaaadios, Spike-person. Hope you're having fun up there!"

Maybe it was the simplicity and pure honesty of what Ed had said, or the image it rendered in her mind of Spike running around in heaven beating up on a bar full of bounty heads with that damn arrogant smirk on his face, but Faye broke out into a huge grin and started laughing. Really laughing. It was that moment she realized what she had been missing, and what a mess her life had turned into in her six months of memory-searching. It was about time for her to start getting her life back together, and start moving on.

Following a discussion with Ed's father, who appeared delighted to have found someone Ed already trusted who could at least influence his daughter a tiny bit in the art of femininity, not to mention watch the hyper 14-year-old while he was away updating his maps of Earth, she moved into their small house on the other side of town. It was a humble abode indeed, hardly furnished at all considering Ed's father's traveling profession and Ed's ability to thrive just about anywhere, but Faye was more than thrilled just having a change in the pathetic lifestyle she had grown accustomed to.

Grateful for a well-needed distraction from her thoughts, Faye spent most hours of each day hanging out with an ecstatic Ed, for once enjoying her company instead of being thoroughly annoyed like she had been in better times. She even picked up a few tips on computers in the meantime, and Ed was learning from Faye how to tame her wild orange mass of hair. She was gradually becoming somewhat of a role model for Ed, and almost like a big sister.

Ed was all she had now. Her only link left to Spike. He was still invading her thoughts, no doubt about it, but with slightly less frequent appearances.

At least now, she mused, the memories were happier than the ones that surfaced when she was alone.

Slowly waking from her half-year-long reverie, Faye made a decision to prove to herself that she didn't need Spike to do the dirty work anymore, like the way she relied on him to save her whenever she got in trouble. She enrolled in several martial arts classes at a nearby gym, and also began sharpening her already-near-perfect aim at the local shooting range.

No matter how lethal she was when she could rely on her comrades, she planned to be completely self-sufficient when it came to escaping dangerous situations. Perhaps she might even take up bounty hunting again; along with everything else in her recent past she missed, she enjoyed the thrill of the chase when on the job, it was addictive.

Hey, if she became successful enough, she may be able to start repaying her debts. Yeah, right. It was with that exact thought she came to another decision: she would quit gambling. It was about time anyway. She winced to think of how much she had lost over the years on the ponies, the cards, the dice, the wheels, and the dogs. Hardly worth it anymore.

She was now well on her way to becoming a debtless, determined, ass-kicking, bounty hunting machine. After all, now that Spike was gone, there had to be another one in the solar system to take his place. Not only that, but she had an obvious advantage in the fact that sex is a weapon and bounties tend to be predominantly male. Oh yes, Faye would become a force to be reckoned with indeed.


	4. Chapter 02B

Of all the martial arts known throughout the galaxy, Joon Kee is easily the smoothest and most fluid. In practicing the ancient art, the Joon Kee master does not only imitate the properties of water, but seemingly becomes a part of the universal energy of water, flowing and pounding with the slick reflexes of a clear mountainside stream or the torrential force of a monsoon.

It was common knowledge that Mars yielded the most talented and devastatingly dangerous of the masters, and until 2061, the undisputed master of the masters was a citizen of Tharsis who went by the name Tornado Raines. Tornado had been working for the Red Dragon Syndicate for ten years before the accident, in which he worked training young recruits to utilize the strategies and techniques of Joon Kee.

In those days, the syndicate was not corrupt, and served more as an elite society and facility for young boys and men to learn to protect themselves and the order, and to be a member meant that you and your family was guaranteed security in the sometimes treacherous territory of Mars. Merely carrying a Red Dragon badge where minor criminals could see it secured your safety. It was common knowledge among the lowlifes of the red planet that if you dared do wrong against a syndicate member, they would know, and you and your loved ones would be hunted until they got the point across.

Tornado and his wife Linda had been esteemed members of the Syndicate for most of their lives, and had been good friends with Mao Yenrai since long before he became the head of the syndicate. They were all in the same circles as Jack Spiegel and Annie throughout their years in the syndicate, and looked out for each other in all aspects of their lives. So when Jack got married and had a son, Spike, it was only natural that all of them took him under their wings and silently vowed to protect and watch over the newborn boy.

He grew and flourished in the syndicate, and it soon became apparent that he would lead the next generation of Red Dragons. Even as a seven-year-old, Spike oozed confidence and potential, and he was extremely bright for his age. By this time, Mao had been named the head of the Red Dragons, and was understandably pleased with the progress Spike had made. He was already taking basic combat lessons with the other boys in the syndicate, and being so advanced for his age, he was usually among the thirteen and fourteen-year-olds in his training classes.

Seeing the rare opportunity for someone to forge him into a master of his trade, Tornado decided to take Spike on as his Joon Kee disciple, and give him private daily lessons. Shortly after making this announcement, he discovered that his wife was pregnant with twins, and took it as a good omen for both ventures. However, some of the events that would transpire over the next year were overwhelmingly far from good.

The White Tiger Syndicate had always been a main rival of the Red Dragons on Mars since both were founded. They had never seen eye-to-eye on many issues, and fighting between members of the two clans was ever-present in the background of the city, or rather, colonized area of Tharsis. Thus it became Mao's main aim as he took up the position of Syndicate Leader to settle some of the differences between the syndicates, and establish an era of peace.

One idyllic afternoon in late April, Jack and his wife Abby lay against the rough bark in the shade of an oak tree in Destiny Park, proudly gazing upon their son as he animatedly repeated some of the moves Tornado had taught him, an entranced grin forming on his face.

"Dad! Dad! Watch this! It's called the 'Diving Crane'!" Spike stood on his right foot and dramatically lunged forward, his left leg bent and rising above his waist. He then pivoted his hips and snapped his back up to a straight standing position, swinging his bent leg around his side, and made to land a kick into the side of an invisible enemy in front of him, but instead his leg swung with eager and unnecessary force and continued its elliptical path, knocking his other leg out from under him. Falling forward onto his stomach with a grunt, he urgently got back to his feet, his face tinted pink. "Uh--that was supposed to happen."

He placed a hand behind his head, nervously tangling his fingers in his mossy mop of hair and letting out a slight chuckle. His mother complacently let out a chuckle of her own, her head resting against Jack's well-muscled chest. He glanced down at his calloused fingers, drifting through Abby's long silky green hair like rays of sunlight peeking through a lush forest, and sighed contently. Together they made a beautiful family.

"Well well well, isn't this a lovely little frolic in the park..." Jack tensed up as he heard a familiar drawling voice from behind the tree he was leaning against. Abby quickly understood what was happening, and stood, rushing over to Spike and grabbing his hand, and turning around to face her husband so that Spike was still behind her.

"Dad..." Spike whispered with concern, making a move to run over to him before he was halted when his mother gently squeezed his hand.

"Shhh," she softly bade Spike to stay quiet, and he nodded slightly, though he uneasily shifted his weight trying to rid himself of the anxious foreboding feeling in his stomach.

"What are you doing here, Quinn?" Jack stood slowly, his feet planted, and faced the white-haired man who sauntered confidently into the clearing, his hands in his pockets and flanked by two rather large syndicate goons in black suits. A badge displaying a white tiger preparing to pounce outlined with the words 'White Tiger Syndicate' in a circle was easily recognized, standing out on the lapel of his light grey suit jacket.

"What?" he adopted a look of false innocence, and set his sights upon Spike, "can't a man say hello to an old friend? And I'm guessing this must be Spike, correct?"

At the mention of his name, Spike looked up at the man with a glare of silent defiance, obviously frightened, but not about to let it show. The strange man walked over to him and crouched down to Spike's eye level, the glint in his iron-rimmed dark blue eyes hinting at a hidden malicious intent. "You know, I have a boy about your age myself. Maybe you two could get together and play sometime."

He lowered his head, still staring into Spike's mahogany eyes, and chuckled. He stood up again and turned back to his cronies as his chuckle grew in volume into a full, malevolent laugh. Jack's eyes grew concerned and he edged over to his family, picking up on his icy tone. "_What are you doing here?_"he repeated, this time with more urgency and determination.

Quinn simply pivoted on his feet, now standing slightly in front of the syndicate workers, and diverted his eyes to the ground when he saw the formerly carefree happy family, now cowering in expectant fear, Spike glaring nervously from behind his mother, only the left side of his body visible, and his father on her other side with a protective arm around her waist.

He raised his eyes, turned his back to them once again, and nodded.

Jack reacted slower than the White Tiger bodyguards. Once his wife and son were pushed out of the range of bullets, he pulled out his own Jericho and fired right back, hitting them both in the head. Quinn had already gone.

He turned his attention back to his family, and gasped in horror when he saw Spike crawling onto Abby's stomach, blood staining the white material of her blouse. "Mom...MOM!" Spike screamed, crying and shaking her arms, desperately searching for a sign of movement. Jack rushed over to her side, pushed the hair out of her face and grabbed her hand, glancing down at the gunshot wound in her chest and closing his eyes in painful realization. There was a good chance the bullet was lodged in her heart.

"Jack...Spike..." she weakly gasped out their names, her eyes brimming with tears as she quietly resigned herself to the awful truth that her life was almost over. They both quickly moved their eyes up to her face, and she smiled with relief to see they had both not been hurt. Her eyes fell shut, and she groaned slightly before her arms fell limp.

"NO! MOM!" Spike cried out despairingly and Jack closed his eyes again, a single tear falling onto her lifeless hand still grasped tightly in his. He released it and stood, eyes still shut, and turned around to face the space in the trees where Quinn had left, the two bodies of the nameless White Tiger henchmen still unmoving on either side of the opening. His eyelids slowly parted giving way to two dark anguish-ridden orbs glowing with hatred.

"Quinn, you bastard. What did you do that for? You know as well as I do that your wife died because she was getting herself mixed up in matters that were none of her business. Her death came of her own doing. Abby did nothing wrong. And how dare you even attempt to harm my son." he spat the words like poison as his grip around his gun tightened again, knuckles white.

Quinn reappeared from behind the same oak Jack and Abby had been so freely relaxing against just minutes earlier. He continued staring straight ahead and didn't dare to let Jack see the tears gathering in his own eyes. "You killed her. You killed her and now I killed your wife." His head slowly turned to the left, and he brandished his gun in his left hand. "Now I'll kill you too."

If Jack hadn't aimed his own gun at that moment, Quinn's goal would have been reached. But as it happened, Quinn's bullet hit Jack's gun, and ricocheted to his left. Jack immediately took the opportunity and fired his weapon, this time hitting his target deep within Quinn's chest. A scream penetrated the stifling air and Jack turned his back on his downed enemy and a harsh breath exited his body when he saw Spike clutching his hand to his right eye, crying in pain, blood running down his arm, bringing the total number of bloodstains on the formerly pristine grass to five. "SPIKE! Are you alright?"

He fell to his knees to comfort his son when his ears caught a last request, regarding a certain child still waiting for daddy to 'take care of business' in the syndicate car parked on the street a block away from Destiny Park, haggardly gasped out of dying lips only feet away.

"_Please...take care...of my son...take care of Vicious for me_."


	5. Chapter 03A

"Let's go down to the pier to go fishing, Faye-Faye!"

Faye started at the sudden request and looked up from her nail polish, having seen only thirty seconds earlier a completely immersed and focused-looking Ed typing away furiously on her 'Tomato'. She blinked, staring at the girl now hopping up and down with excitement, wondering what exactly had made her want to drop everything and go fishing. She seriously doubted it was because of a sudden hankering for sea bass sashimi.

Still nonplused, Faye nodded weakly. "Okay."

She wasn't planning to do anything else that afternoon, so she figured she could humor the girl. After giving the nail polish cap a quick twist, she grabbed the keys and took Ed right out to the Red Wing, not needing to bring anything else with her. Ed had already taken the liberty of finding the old tackle box and rod, and was now hastily stuffing them and herself behind the driver's seat.

"Faye-Faye COME ON!" she urged emphatically. There was definitely a hidden motive somewhere in all of this. Faye quirked her mouth sideways in wary uneasiness as she sidled into the cockpit. She had learned not to bother with asking Ed simple questions about her ulterior plans though, from past experience she knew it would only serve to make her more suspicious and confused.

It had been a whole year now since she had moved in with Radical Edward. A year of some well-needed healing and moving on. She hadn't exactly started going after bounties yet, but just one week earlier, she decided to present Ed with the prospect of employing her in their hunts. Needless to say, Ed jumped at the chance. Literally. For several hours.

The only thing preventing them from beginning their work right away was the fact that Faye's ship was most definitely not fit for being a primary vessel for she, Ed, Ein, and a potential tied up bounty head to travel in. And besides, she couldn't very well go searching for fugitives in every corner of the solar system with an inconceivably hyper teenager and a just-as-hyper Welsh Corgi in tow.

There was the option of leaving Ed and Ein at home while she went off alone and did the dirty work, but it was probably a bad idea leaving the two of them alone so far away. Even if her father had been home at the time, she didn't like the idea of being alone herself, even if her only friends left were just on the other end of a communicator. It wouldn't take much to push her off the deep end again, and she was just plain scared of what would happen if she were separated from Ed for too long. If this were two years ago, she would have laughed at the thought of clinging to weird little Ed like a lifeline, but that's how it was now.

Her sleep hadn't gotten any better despite the fact that her consciousness was recovering significantly. Every night was plagued with anguish and unrest, every night waking to her own sobs and cries like a snake eating its own tail. It was an endless cycle that had resulted in her fearing the sunset so passionately that often she would stay awake as long as possible to delay, if anything, the shadows of images that the darkness tended to incessantly conjure.

Somewhere along the way, though, she began to give into the terrors and succumbed to her haunting dreams without a fight. She had discovered that losing sleep on purpose to drown Spike's memory only made her more miserable.

There's no use attempting to drown water, after all.

A quick five minute flight later, Faye docked the zip-craft in a public parking space, trying with all her might to ignore Ed's anxious bouncing and singing.

"Faye-Faye, come and play! Ed's showing Faye something good today..." she chanted excitedly and braced herself before rocketing out of the opening hatch, forgetting about the fishing rod, and with Ein following close behind. She began running towards the pier on all fours, imitating the canine and matching each other stride for stride. Faye ambled out of her seat a few seconds later and cocked an eyebrow at the interesting pair.

"Wonder what's got them all excited..." she sighed and gathered the fishing supplies before reaching up to close the hatch. She glanced down at the rusty tackle box and flimsy rod to confirm her second-guess of hesitation. "I guess since they're ah...preoccupied, we won't be needing these eyesores."

She dropped them back in the cockpit and silently closed the hatch. Locking the craft with practiced ease, she turned toward the ocean and sighed. The glimmering expanse of blue waters always managed to calm her. Walking slow, soothing steps towards the horizon, she caught herself humming a certain tune and halted.

All those times Spike managed to end up unconscious on the old yellow sofa, she eavesdropped on his internal conversations enough to pick up the simple lulling melody he released in his sleep that seemed to both haunt him and relax him. She smiled lethargically when she subconsciously retrieved a related memory, and gazed at a random spot on the asphalt; in her mind's eye staring at a scene she could recall quite easily.

"Off-key...you were practically unconscious, what did you know..."

It had only been recently that when she thought of Spike she could smile instead of sob.

She continued at a lazy saunter in the general direction of the boardwalk, her thoughts more involving the past and her concentration on the present waning with every step. She stared at her old white boots, her now-shoulder-length grape-colored hair swaying past her jawline.

A yipping bark caught her off-guard and the stream of memories broke off abruptly. She glanced ahead of her to see Ein barreling back towards her from around the corner of a building on the left of the clear shot to the waterscape. She furrowed her brows in confusion before Ed came careening around the same bend, on two feet this time.

"What the..."

"FAYE-FAYE! COME SEE! COME SEE!" Faye blinked, utterly perplexed, and cautiously decided to follow Ed to the edge of the boardwalk. She warily turned her head in the direction Ed was currently sprinting in and widened her jade eyes in realization.

What she saw made her almost faint, overcome with disbelief, surprise, and a little relief.

"Edward tracked him down on Tomato and found out about the course he set for earth for finding information about a bounty." She nodded knowledgeably, obviously pleased with herself.

Faye smiled tentatively and approached the rusted, old fishing vessel, one word hastily sprayed onto the patchwork scrap metal, glowing a faint neon crimson in the ambient illumination of the mid-day sun.

BeBop.


	6. Chapter 03B

The subtle yet ever-present beep prevented Rocky from slipping too far in his memories. He stared lethargically at his father, a tiny presence in the deepest depths of his conscience still hoping for any kind of twitch or movement from the lifeless body on the pristine hospital bed. His sharp focus deliberately ignored the vase of completely wilted, almost fossilized, dry broken stems and crackled pieces of brown petals scattered on the synthesized pink granite standard-issue bedside table. A satin blue bow sat untouched and vibrant wrapped around the curve of the generic glass bottle, a falsely optimistic message written in raised plastic on a sign at the junction of the ribbon, '_Get well soon!_

'

Rocky tore his gaze reluctantly away to look at his watch, the time passing excruciatingly slowly, but gone before he knew it. With a sigh that exhibited the pain of years of daily heartbreak, he stood and headed to the cheap not-quite-wooden door, heavy footsteps echoing from the plodding thumps of thick rubber soles meeting bland speckled white linoleum tiles.

He paused, one hand grasping the cold brushed metal doorknob, and his eyes rose over his shoulder to give his dad a parting nod before preparing his demeanor for the outside world and briskly exiting the room.

He only walked a couple of yards before pausing again, this time looking to his right. He was met with a manila folder at eye level taped to another hospital room door, a name hastily scribbled in pen the only clue as to the identity of the inhabitant. After a moment's hesitation, Rocky tentatively cracked the door open, risking a peek at the green-haired wonderboy who had managed to defeat the odds and stay alive.

It had been a year, give or take a month or two, since the mysterious patient had been admitted. Other than the lingering effects of the shock his body went through when receiving the necessary blood transfusions, he had no extensive damage to any organs. Unfortunately, the effects that kept him comatose were to be attributed to the brain damage incurred when the blood flow had been interrupted.

The intricate network of cells in the brain could, in some cases, be fixed. However, the healing process is painstakingly slow, if it goes underway at all. Even though the damage done to his body and mind was extensive, it was not necessarily irreparable.

"Lucky bastard."

Rocky observed the figure on the bed, still lithe and formidable, but it was painfully obvious that the muscle mass he once prided himself in had atrophied visibly over the last year of complete idleness. There were nurses who would stretch the muscles daily so they wouldn't freeze permanently, but it wouldn't prevent the decay of strength.

If anything, there was no doubt that if or when Spike woke up, he would have no trouble with his flexibility. The nurses practically jumped at the chance to work with this handsome enigma simply dubbed "Tsunami". According to popular consensus, there had never been a sexier coma victim in the solar system.

He took a glance at the charts placed at the end of Spike's bed, taking note of the fact that although all of his injuries on the surface had long since healed, his overall condition hadn't changed. He frowned momentarily, wondering if it had been worth it at all to keep him alive, and pay for it himself, when he would probably never wake up.

Another thought shattered the doubt when he realized that if there was one person out there who loved Spike as much as he loved his own father, and he let him die, he would never be able to handle the guilt. If he ever found that person, he knew it would alleviate the awful ache in his heart if he could confidently say he did all he could to save him.

Money wasn't an issue. His father had left him a small fortune before the incident that stole away his consciousness occurred. Rocky was the only remaining member of his family, not dead or comatose. His mother had died giving birth to him and a twin brother, who was born sickly and died a week later. Tornado had done all that was in his power to make sure that Rocky did not suffer the same fate as his brother, and so forged a bond between them that would last both of their lifetimes. He never even let Rocky join the syndicate, for fear of losing another life to common rival warfare.

As such, Rocky became inspired to go to medical school, where he studied to become a surgeon. He had been an EMT for two years as a part of his training, and was currently interning with a surgeon at the hospital. He was at the end of his shift at nine o'clock at night when he went to visit his father, meaning by the time he checked on Spike, it was long past eleven, and he couldn't stay much longer if he wanted to wake up coherent the next morning.

He idly noticed the several small gifts and balloons by his bed, tokens of part-admiration, part-infatuation from some of the nurses in hopes of him waking and recognizing one of them as his savior, or with other equally silly motives. From the little he knew about Spike, to have cheated death at least twice and still be alive, if not to talk about it then at least to have the potential to someday, was quite an accomplishment in itself. He probably deserved much more admiration than being crushed on by some young optimistic and intelligent yet bored girls whose duty it was to look after the unconscious.

There was definitely something different about Spike that drew people to him; he seemed so strong, both physically and mentally, yet also very sad, like he had never found true peace in his life since he had lost it the first time. He had known real happiness with a family and friends and a future, and then it was all ripped away from him. He had healed those wounds and moved on, escalating to great heights as a man before it came crashing down again.

All that Rocky had heard was that a young upstart named Vicious had invoked a group of top members of the syndicate to rebel; they killed a few of Mao's closest advisors and friends, Jack Spiegel one of them. Somehow in all this, Tornado had been shot and left for dead—almost like Spike had been recently. The only difference was Tornado hadn't been able to receive help for at least an hour after blood loss had numbed him to the point of collapse. Spike was believed to have died during the massacre as well, but somehow he had managed to escape, apparently.

As for everything that happened after that, Rocky could only guess. He knew that Spike hadn't been dead for three years, at least. Rocky was already eighteen at the time of the incident, and so when his father was effectively incapacitated, he was still able to carry on and start college that fall.

Nothing had been the same since then. Rumors were exchanged around the city of Tharsis; stories of a romance gone wrong and a jealous boyfriend turning psychotic and killing his girlfriend's lover and his entire family. No one knew what to believe, and what was just total bullshit. Rocky was more in the loop than the general public, but even he only knew the vague circumstances, and wisely kept those facts to himself.

Tornado had hinted before the incident that certain members of the syndicate were perhaps less than trustworthy, but he preferred to keep the details to himself, trying to avoid getting his son any more involved in the mess than he had to be.

So Rocky was left trying to piece things together, picking up tiny clues his father let slip unintentionally, and he was still no closer to discovering the truth about everything that had happened. Maybe, if Spike ever woke up, he could finally know.

A slight rustle stirred him out of his thoughts and he slowly raised his head, the heart monitor machine speeding up to a quick galloping pace, matching his own accelerating heartbeat. Spike's eyes fluttered open and rich garnet-tinted topaz met sapphire blue. Rocky froze.

"I...Faye...where's Faye..."

Rocky opened his mouth to try and answer that he had no idea where she was, or who she was, for that matter, but his voice would not comply.

"It's Julia. She needs to know...I never told her..."

Spike's natural eye was glazed over, the other one unchanged and blank, and he was breathing heavily as though it drained him to keep them open at all.

"You...you've been in a coma for a year, Spike. You're in a hospital...No one knows you're here though."

Thankful for finding his vocal cords again, Rocky watched Spike as he clenched his fists on the white sheets and closed his eyes despondently.

"So...do they think I'm dead?"

His hoarse, long-unused voice grew quiet and cracked slightly in dread.

"Y-yes."

Spike's breathing stopped sharply and the heart monitor started racing. Rocky rushed to his side and shook his shoulders; his medical training advising against such violent movements, but his mind was still in shock from him waking up at all. He pushed the emergency call button near the bedside and requested a doctor come to see him immediately, trying his best to stay calm while the formerly-coherent and conscious man convulsed in the bed at his side.

Less than thirty seconds later the door burst open and a man and two women in scrubs and masks took over Rocky's position next to Spike, and the doctor immediately began CPR as the foreboding beeps of the heart monitor grew steadily more desultory and rapid. The line went flat.

Rocky swallowed the lump in his throat and his vision grew cloudy as he backed up into the lone visitor's chair in the room. He covered his face with his hands and sunk his elbows into his lap.

It couldn't happen...he couldn't die now. He was the lucky one, the one who was saved early enough to live. He woke up, for goodness' sake. He couldn't just die.

He was special. He had to live.

The solid tone suddenly broke up again—slowly regaining a rhythm as the doctor and two nurses sighed in relief simultaneously and started removing their latex gloves. Rocky switched a glance upwards in thanks as the younger of the two nurses moved towards him.

"It's a good thing you were here, Rocky. He might have died." She gave him a genuine smile and crouched down to meet his shocked but calmed eyes with her own appreciative gaze. She gently placed her hand on his knee and smiled again in reassurance as his stare faltered.

"He woke up. He woke up...then he just...seized up and his heartbeat went haywire..."

"He wasn't strong enough yet to stay awake for very long. Nothing's any worse, he just went back to sleep. He's still healing on the inside. It might take as long as a few years to repair the damage, but the fact that he woke up at all is...a miracle. It has to mean something's going right. Just be patient," she stood back up and smoothed out her scrubs, all the while keeping the helpful smile on her face.

"He's still in there somewhere."


	7. Chapter 04A

"Jet? Is there something wrong? Why do I smell—oh."

Faye swallowed the rest of the sentence when she turned around the corner and saw the source of the overwhelmingly malodorous burning stench. Ed had donned a white pillowcase—perched ridiculously on her head—and was currently balancing an egg in the grasp of two fingers, poised to fall, while her other hand was busy using a charred plastic spatula to stir what looked like thickened cottage cheese around in a frying pan over the blue flame of the stove. Blinking rapidly, Faye decided not to endanger her and Jet's life by allowing the culinary edition of the Cirque du Ed to continue.

Snatching the egg in distress out of Ed's fingertips, she hurriedly switched off the stove and grabbed the pan before—well she didn't want to waste time contemplating the consequences. She returned the egg and pan to the safety of the sturdy countertop and braced her palms against the handle of the oven as she closed her eyes exhaustedly and let out a heavy sigh.

"Ed-person was making pancakes for breakfast!" Faye turned to the disgusting pan of scorched gruel and knotted her brows in confusion. Pancakes...?

"Pancakes, man rakes, land flakes, hand brakes!" Ed twirled around the kitchen, obviously undeterred from her foiled pursuit of the subject of her rhymes. Faye walked up to the spinning teenager and plucked the pillowcase from her head.

"Ed, how about you go wake up Jet and let me make the pancakes, okay?"

"Okay, Faye-Faye!" She curved the path of her motion into a more or less straight line out of the kitchen and into the Centrifugal Anti-Gravity Synthesis Chamber—or, the rotating room. Faye smiled, shook her head good-naturedly, and turned to the matter at hand. Dropping the soiled pan into the sink, she picked up another clean one and began pulling the proper ingredients for pancakes out of the fridge and pantry.

"Oh crap...there's no milk left." She sighed before she heard a frustrated shout coming from the direction of Jet's room. A minute later, scrubbing up the disgusting pan in the sink, she recognized the unmistakable sound of a dripping and downtrodden Jet plodding into the kitchen. "Morning, Jet."

He grumbled in acknowledgment. Grabbing a bowl and box of cereal from a random cupboard, he poured himself an exemplary breakfast of lucky charms, then turned to open the refrigerator in search of a certain resource he had no knowledge was recently depleted. "The milk's gone."

"I know. Why don't you pick up some from the nearest grocery store?"

Jet stretched out his arms and yawned. "Why don't you? I have to do some more scrounging for info about this...Kevin Calhoun guy. I got some tips from Buddy that he was last seen in this area, and I need to talk to the ISSP guys before we can make a move."

"Okay...hey Jet, where are we anyway?"

He tensed up and shifted his weight before replying. "Nowhere really. Little town on Mars."

She nodded uncertainly and made her way to the airlock door to the deck, plucking a cash card off a table and placing it in the front right pocket of her familiar vinyl lemon shorts. The sunshine greeted her like an enthusiastic telemarketer—relentless and not entirely welcome. She shielded her eyes frantically so as to escape blindness due to the high contrast between the dim artificial spaceship lighting and the penetrating midmorning Mars sun.

True though the red planet was further away from the namesake of the solar system than the origin of human existence, the false atmospheric conditions created to sustain life proved a feeble filter for photon transmittal. UV rays were not a problem, however, as when the new artificial sky on the undeveloped planet was constructed, the scientists included a gas that managed to block most of the harmful short wavelengths from reaching the surface. It performed as an undisturbed ozone layer, more perfect and durable than the one humans had initially inherited from the earth.

Faye's pupils stabilized eventually and focused on the corrugated iron deck of the old fishing ship. It gave her an utmost feeling of bliss being able to once again call it home. After all, it was the only home she had had since Act Two of her life began. Her past was an unusual one, and as such it required categorization into different parts—the years cryogenically frozen serving as the intermission. After that, her life could be further subsidized into scenes. The time between her awakening and when she had met Spike Spiegel that fateful night in the casino--Scene One. The ten months of heaven spent as a member of the Bebop's crew—Scene Two. And her post-Spike's death/memory recovery period would be dubbed Scene Three. If one felt the need to be nitpicky, it could be split further, but generally speaking, this was how the play of her life was set. The one circumstance yet undecided, though, was an unanswerable question.

Would it end as a comedy, or a tragedy?

She sighed at the unbroken view of a small city of cookie-cutter brick buildings and shops visible from the little dock the Bebop was anchored and tied to. The sandy rust-colored walls evoked a tinge of recognition; quickly discarded as she remembered just how many of the habitation modules on Mars used the exact same materials for construction and similar design patterns.

All doubt was cast aside, however, when she took a tentative glance to the west and shut her eyes tightly at the sight of the one view she knew could not lie. The neon lights were turned off in the morning sunlight, but she had no trouble reading the bold red letters spelling 'Tharsis General Hospital'. Stifling back a sob building in her throat, she regained her composure and refused to let it bother her.

She had already come to terms with everything, and there was no reason to break down once confronted with the mere sight of the city where her virtual Armageddon had taken place almost three years ago. Her mind felt the slight presence of a ghost of a feeling reminiscent of hope. She idly wondered if they had ever found his body and buried it, thinking one day she might even come back on her own to find out. At present she was still not prepared to deal with the emotional strength required to undertake such a task, however.

Sighing in resolution as much as resignation, she continued walking to the wooden pier and hopped over the railing to plant her feet on more or less solid ground for the first time in several weeks; time spent chasing rumors in outer space. Mindless of where her feet carried her, Faye set off vaguely in search of a grocery store, but overwhelmingly lost in numbing thoughts. Did Jet mean to send her out by herself to reopen the deep wounds left the last time they had been in this city? Was he trying to help her by making her face her memories again?

She slowed when she spotted a red and yellow ball bounce a bit before coming to rest before her feet. She bent over and picked it up, her trance not broken until she heard a cheerful giggle preceded by scurrying footsteps.

"Um, Miss can I have my ball back please?" Faye looked over at a small child, no more than five years old, with a broad, grinning, flushed face framed with ruffled white-blonde hair. He breathed quickly and deeply, panting slightly after chasing his plaything over what seemed like a long distance for his little legs. She smiled genuinely.

"Sure. Here you are, handsome." She crouched down and handed him the ball, enchanted by the adorable blush creeping over his cheeks. His silver-blue eyes glittered with innocent and pure happiness. She faltered at the thought of the horrors life may have in store to corrupt that, but shoved it away when his grin widened.

"Thanks Miss!" He bounced his ball somewhat ungracefully on the concrete sidewalk and turned to the grassy area opposite the street. Faye smiled at the image as he stumbled after the rolling orb through a wrought iron archway giving way to an idyllic meadow; clearly out-of-place in the densely populated city, but nonetheless picturesque. Benches occupied by happy-looking families and relaxing businessmen, and everything from women knitting to men playing chess to small kids laughing and running gave the impression that this little slice of joy and heaven has served as a refuge for cityfolk for generations.

"Hey, what's your name?" She called belatedly after him, and the boy let his ball roll away a few feet when he turned to face her again, standing directly under the archway, framed by the twisted metal calligraphy titling the land 'Destiny Park'. She became taken aback by a sudden sense of familiarity when the bright sunlight shone through his golden crystal locks and his glassy irises were cast into shadow and reflected deep blue oceanic hues. Faye gasped.

"I'm Spike."


	8. Chapter 04B

"Julia."

Spike stood motionless in the rain, eyes locked on the vision in front of him. They stood ten feet apart in the graveyard. He met her gaze unflinchingly, though his fists clenched uncertainly in his trenchcoat pockets. Time stood still, and all was silent save the incessant drone of the raindrops meeting concrete and grass. Taking a tentative step forward, Julia dropped her head so her long spun gold locks drew together over her face like a soaking curtain. Her gait quickened and she stopped when she reached him, her watery grey-blue gaze rising to meet his dark steadfast one.

"It was raining that day as well." She gasped slightly and then drew her lips into a smirk.

"There was no way I could have gone with you, Spike. I stayed with Vicious." His eyebrows drew together quizzically, searching her eyes for an answer, but her countenance revealed nothing. "I had to."

"Julia, what…"

"I was pregnant, Spike." He gasped this time.

"Was it…"

"No. Vicious is the father." She turned and gestured towards the stairs behind her, and a few seconds later, a boy, about 2 years old came toddling around the corner. Eyes grey as the overcast sky blinked through a shade of wispy, dry platinum blonde hair from under a small, red umbrella. "His name is Spike."

To Spike, she suddenly seemed to be at least ten years older than the last time he had seen her, though it had only been just shy of three years since. He crouched down to look at the child and saw a curious expression displayed on an angelic chubby face. "Who t'at, mommy?"

"That's Spike. I told you about him, remember?"

The younger Spike broke into a grin. "Mommy, his name's like mine." He uttered with a hint of a lisp, and his mother reached and grasped his hand.

"That's right, honey. You were named after him." Spike was at a loss for words, to say the least. He stood slowly and glanced at Julia, awaiting some sort of elaboration. He didn't have to wait long.

"Listen, Spike, I need to tell you. Vicious…he hired me to seduce you all those years ago. He wanted to…to destroy you from the inside, he was going to use me against you. I went along with it, I loved him and would do anything for him; to make him happy. Once I became pregnant, and you were making plans to get out, I began having doubts. He went completely crazy that day he killed your father and thought he killed you—though I knew you had escaped, I didn't tell him because although I never loved you, I sympathized and finally acknowledged I didn't love Vicious anymore. I wanted then to get out too, but by then he had realized I was pregnant and made me marry him. I hadn't really wanted to, but I had no other choice.

"He believed his revenge on you had been exacted—he blamed you for the deaths of his parents and hated you and your father no matter how he covered it pretending as though he loved you like a brother. I knew he was planning to rebel and knowing I could have done something to stop all those deaths has eaten away at me over the last few years. I carry more guilt than I know how to handle, and now I know with you here, I need to rid myself of this life before it kills me. I need to take this opportunity to get away from him now. For Spike." She cast a glance at her son, innocently playing with the umbrella, oblivious to the revelations being discovered over his head. The elder Spike sighed, his mind swirling with the information he had just been given, and he gave a slight, hesitant nod.

"You never loved me?"

"I couldn't love you. I was blind then, too involved with Vicious to realize his ulterior motives. I always liked you though." She gave a lopsided, watery smile and sighed. "Spike, I want you to know…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. I was stupid."

"Forgiven." She glanced up at him, eyes wide in shock. "I understand, Julia. I'm going to end this. For Spike. For me. For you. It needs to end now."

Julia gasped in relief and threw herself into his arms, grateful tears falling and mingling with the now-relenting rain. "Thank you." He held her for a few moments and then she pulled back, wiping her eyes gently with a few fingers. The little boy tugged at her soaking trenchcoat, wide eyes peering curiously from under the red umbrella.

"Mommy what's going to happen?" She straightened herself and crouched down to look him in the eye.

"Spike here is going to help us get away from daddy and live by ourselves together. How does that sound?" Anyone would think she just promised her son a lifetime of candy, the way his smile beamed with delight. He dropped his umbrella, turned and launched himself at Spike's legs, who in turn chuckled lightly and lowered himself to wrap his own arms around the small child. He glanced back at Julia, whose gratitude shone through overwhelmingly in her eyes.

Her emotions solidified his impression that she was nothing like the aloof, seductive woman he had so foolishly fallen in love with. He had come to terms with that fact now, and after so long wishing she would have stayed with him forever, he finally understood. As soon as he ended what he had been intending to end ever since the day his alleged best friend had turned on him, he would be free. Julia would be free. They could escape everything that had mutually held them back, separately.

It was obvious to him now, if nothing else, that he belonged on the Bebop. More specifically, with Faye. He had been in love with her so long, now he could finally let go of the obligations keeping him from her, and he could be happy. Finally. The thought made him giddy, and he had to restrain himself from jumping with excitement. A wide, unhindered smile spread across his face, and his eyes glittered. The rain ceased. He stood again, as did Julia. Sobering quickly, he remembered the obstacle he had yet to overcome, and took a deep breath. His burgundy eyes locked again with cornflower and Julia smiled again.

"Thank you, Spike. I won't forget you. I hope you make it out of this—Faye is probably waiting for you." His face went slack with surprise before he remembered who had met with Julia to tell him of this meeting in the first place. A sly grin graced his features.

"Yes. But she deserves to be with me when I can guarantee I'll be there. I must take care of things first." He frowned, contemplating this. He couldn't tell her he loved her, though the feeling threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't tell her, but he had to say goodbye before he met his demons. Swallowing thickly, he steeled himself to go back to the Bebop. She wasn't going to like what he had to tell her. It was cruel to leave her in the dark about his feelings, but necessary. If he indeed came back, then he could tell her everything. Only then would he be free to.

"Goodbye, Julia."

----------

The first thing he was aware of was a bright light penetrating his foggy mind. The second thing was that he was aware of something. Blinking rapidly, he tried to clear the haze when he acknowledged the beeping sound to his left was accelerating in rate. His breath was quick yet steady; not gasping, but not calm either. His arms and legs hung like wet noodles from his joints, and he winced in pain as his muscles protested when he lifted his right arm to see an IV needle leading from his elbow to a bag of fluid hung up next to his bed. He swallowed, his tongue dry and swollen in his mouth with a putrid taste lingering in the buds. His head was spinning, and he lay practically still as he allowed it to regroup and form whole thoughts.

Suddenly, his peace was disrupted when the door to his little hospital room burst open. He blinked languidly and tried to look down and focus on the person who entered, but his feet were in the way of his line of sight to the door. The mystery person took a few hesitant steps forward, their shoes slapping the floor and echoing in the almost-silent room. A raven-topped head came into view followed by a pair of astonished azure eyes and a mouth parted in a gasp. The man swallowed and Spike stared, trying to place the familiar face in his mind, though he had more pressing questions at the moment.

"Where am I?" Voice hoarse from lack of use, he croaked in a whisper.

"The hospital. You…you're really awake this time, aren't you?" He frowned in confusion, trying to remember what was the last thing he remembered.

"What? How long have I been here?"

"Um…" The other man looked upwards, a calculating expression on his face as he counted the times gone by, and reached over to the lever at the bedside so he could sit almost upright. Spike sighed heavily and winced as his body bent at the waist, his jaw clenched in preparation for the truth, realizing it must have been a very long time if he had to count it in his head. "Two and a half years?"

"Damn." He muttered and fell silent again.

"Spike?" The other man had moved to the edge of his bed, and nervously put his hands in his jean pockets. He grunted a 'hm' for him to continue.

"If you don't mind my asking…what happened that day when your father died, and Vicious rebelled?" Spike snapped his eyes up, narrowing in question.

"Why do you want to know? How would know of it?" The young man's voice grew soft, intimidated slightly by the man still laying weak on the hospital bed.

"My father was…involved. You know him. Tornado Raines." A puzzle piece fitted into place in Spike's mind, and he nodded.

"You're his kid, Rocky, right?" Rocky nodded. "I wondered what had happened to old Tornado after that. I owe him my life for helping me get out of there. When things turned bad, he opened up the back door for me and stayed to fend off more of Vicious' thugs. Why? What happened to him?" Rocky swallowed and closed his eyes.

"He was injured. Badly. He's been in a coma ever since."

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "Did you…did you help me when…this happened?" He gestured to his body, his meaning obvious.

"Yes. I did. I paid for your life support and everything. Father would have wanted it. And now that you're awake, I guess it's paid off, hasn't it?" He smiled bitterly, and Spike chuckled humorlessly, his eyes becoming hazy, though not due to his health.

"He's a good man. I love him like a second father, and if it weren't for him and all he taught me, I wouldn't be here today." Pausing, he chuckled again. "Not here as in coming out of a coma in the hospital, but alive." Rocky's lip curled upward a tiny bit, not missing his usage of present tense rather than past when referring to his father.

"Yeah. He is." They stayed silent for a while, an unspoken mutual respect passing through the air between them. Clearing his throat gently, Rocky was the first to break the silence.

"The doctors should be up here in a sec, your monitor's wired to the network to detect any changes, which is why I was sent up here to see if it was an emergency. As it isn't, they aren't really rushing, but once they get here, they'll unhook you and start immediately on your physical therapy."

"Hold on, physical therapy?"

"You can't possibly be able to even stand on your own after two and a half years in a coma." He gently stated, shaking his head discouragingly, but his eyes were comforting. Spike sighed deeply and stared at his hands in his lap. He searched his mind for a clue, any hint of where to go from there, knowledge of losing two and a half years of his life only to be told he had to stay there even longer weighing heavily on his frustrations. He realized he had to do something.

"Rocky…I hate to ask after all you've already done, but is there any way you could…do me another favor?"


	9. Chapter 05A

The round rust-colored orb sank deep in the Martian horizon, obscured with a soft haze of oxidized iron shavings kicked up from the surface in a dust storm beyond the city limits. A wave of earth-imported water brushed up gently against the hull of the ship, darkened to an opaque midnight blue with the exception of small opalescent slivers spread sporadically and frequently across the stretch of sea, mimicking the golden glow of the setting sun and gradually-darkening hues of the skies above like thousands of tiny shards of a mirror.

Faye blinked, her tears finally abated for the time being, and hugged her knees closer to her body. Rubbing away the evidence of her melancholy, she lifted her gaze to the sanguine pastel heavens and wondered. If heaven was meant to be a place in the skies above the earth, what was in the skies above Mars?

"Maybe it's Hell." She chuckled quietly and humorlessly, shaking her head as another tear escaped the grip of her eyelashes and ran down her cheek. She stared at the sun again, and brushed her waist-length, stick-straight, violet strands behind her shoulder, allowing a few shorter pieces to dangle beside her face.

"Unbelievable." Her thought patterns circled around, once again landing on the mark, the one revelation plaguing her mind all day. Her forehead rested against her knees, and a fresh bout of tears swelled.

Julia was alive. The moment she saw that grey-blue gaze focused on her, all of Faye's preconceived explanations of Spike going off to exact revenge for his dead blonde lover were shot to smithereens. She seemed older, happier, since the last time they met. Her golden locks trimmed to just below her chin, rather reminiscent of Faye's own old hairdo. On her though, it matured her face, and framed it elegantly. Her eyes were warmer; though the deep crevices still emanated a sense of untold tragedy in the past, the once-glacial blue had turned more to the comforting hue of a summer sky.

Over a cup of coffee in a quaint little kitchen in a small Destiny Park-adjacent townhouse, she finally learned why he did what he did. He did have Julia in mind, but not in the way she had believed to be true for so long.

"_You need to understand something…He needed to end things with the syndicate and get rid of Vicious. It wasn't just for my sake, it was for his own. It was for my little boy's sake, it was for your sake, Faye. There was no way he could have avoided it. He died so that all of us could live. And I can tell you, though I was never in love with Spike, when I look at my son, I don't see his father, I see his namesake. Spike is his hero, and mine."_

She got the feeling Julia was leaving something out, that there was one more variable to the equation, but she couldn't figure out what it might be. Her conscience was telling her to leave it alone, that if Julia wasn't telling her something, it was for her own good. But the curiosity plagued her as her memories she had so carefully hidden in the deep recesses of her mind flooded back to her. It did no good dwelling on the past, she had learned that the hard way years ago, but she was defenseless against the waves pounding her thoughts.

"…_it was for your sake, Faye."_

"For my sake? He left for my sake? What does that mean? What does it all mean…heroes aren't supposed to die…"

Her words slurred as she choked on a sob and closed her eyes against her forearms, her ragged breathing rendering her hearing ineffectual. Thus her proximity at the far edge of the bow of the ship was not close enough to the dock to discern the telltale noise of a car's engine shutting off, followed by the opening and closing of two of its doors.


	10. Chapter 05B

Whether it was the nerves or the drugs that made his hands keep shaking, he didn't know. Every other breath launched his heart into his throat, and it was a wonder he hadn't passed out already. His dilated pupils, gradually normalizing as his time conscious increased, remained focused on the road ahead, cracks in the asphalt disappearing due to the speed and merging into a uniform grey. His thoughts similarly seemed to run faster than the world, every synapse morphing into one impression, one image. If his legs worked, they would be twitching and bouncing nervously, but he made use instead of his unsteady, at least mobile, fingers, absently tumbling acoin between them.

Rocky grew concerned after five minutes had passed with no cognitive movements from his passenger. Ever since by chance, he had found records that the 3-manned fishing vessel"Bebop" happened to be docked only a few miles from the hospital, Spike had been in another world. One glance at his glazed-over irises convinced him to intervene, and he pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The homogeneous grey expanse was suddenly impeded with previously unnoticed canyons in the road, jarring Spike's vision and forcing his thoughts to turn to more immediate matters. Wincing as he blinked, his dried eyes grateful for the break, he turned to face his veritable savior.

"Spike, are you sure you're ready for this?" His words were soft, moreso than usual, and his eyes held concern.

"I just don't know what to say…to her…" Spike's gaze drifted back to the windshield, focusing on the glass pane itself, the peach and russet hues of the setting sun beyond the distant silhouette of the shoreline blurring into a watercolor landscape and soothing his frayed nerves.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Rocky grinned confidently at him, feeling for all the world grateful that he had done the right thing in keeping this man alive. Spike took one glance at his genuine complacency and relaxed. He owed him everything, and resolved to not let a bout of shyness ruin his second chance at living. A ghost of a nervous smile flitted across his features as he sank back into thought, contented for the time being. Whilst he pondered a certain jade-eyed beauty, unnoticed, the horizon grew steadily closer to his vantage point, and eventually, unnoticed, the asphalt through the windowpane turned to wooden planks. A looming shadow crept across the vehicle as Rocky parked the car adjacent to the pier.

Spike was gently nudged out of his thoughts as Rocky shot him the same anxious smile, like a kid getting ready to race his self-constructed soap box racer down a hill. He reached for the door handle as he heard the one to his left open and shut, but his hand began to tremble again, and felt as though he had full-grown albatrosses fluttering around in his stomach. He had yet to raise his eyes from the dashboard.

A slow soft popping sound echoed through his foggy mind, and soon he felt the fresh breeze of the false Martian sea hitting his clammy skin. Taking a deep, deliberate breath, he placed his right hand, palm to palm, trustingly into Rocky's outstretched one, and braced his body to stand. Straining his useable muscles, he raised his body off the passenger seat and locked his legs into a standing position. His eyes were aimed at the edge of the wooden pier, unwilling to face the giant metal structure obscuring the sun.

Swallowing the lumps in his throat and breathing deeply, he leaned against the car, feeling the door close behind him, and accepted the metal crutches offered to him. Sufficiently anchored to the ground, he looked up.

The metal was heterogeneously alternating between old rusted panels and shiny new titanium, the newer material blatantly used as patches here and there, like on a well-used rubber inner tube. His eyes ranged over the hull, until they reached one feature. At his eye-level, he read five letters, carefully spray-painted in royal blue through a stencil, and he couldn't help but wonder if that particular update had been her idea. He wondered if she herself had been the one to paint it there, and from that thought branched out to wondering what exactly had happened when he was asleep…had she found another man? It wasn't as though he had established a claim on her in the first place, anyway. Was she still the same stubborn bitch she used to be? Did she still wear that skimpy yellow outfit…?

The outlines of the letters blurred and grew misty, as his eyes grew wet with tears, but that one nonsensical, ridiculous word burned itself into his memory, and he realized that he had really woken up, that he was really alive, and he was finally back where he was supposed to be. The Bebop.

Straightening his back and nonchalantly swiping his tears away with the back of his hand, he steadied himself on his crutches.

"Shall we go and say hi then?" Spike smiled genuinely for the first time since he had awoken, leaving all (well, most) traces of nervousness behind him, and attempted to start moving himself the few yards to the ship, deciding it would be easier to have Rocky escort him, and keep him upright. It drove him crazy that he had become so helpless and weak, but even those disabilities couldn't keep him from getting on that vessel, no matter what it took.

Once he reached the back deck, following several painstakingly slow shuffling steps, Spike carefully positioned his crutches' rubber bottoms across the inch-wide gap between the dock and the ship. He waved Rocky away for a moment, preferring to use his own power and will to walk back onto the ship. Two seconds later, he smiled as he felt his movements sway, matching the tide. Rocky hopped over the gap and helped Spike shuffle over to the hatch, sepia with rust, yet daunting in the metallic strength it seemed to exude.

"Well?" Rocky nudged him gently from behind, keeping in mind that a normal nudge would knock him off-balance.

Spike slowly formed a fist, and raised his hand, knuckles parallel to the door, and closed his eyes, preparing himself to walk (as well as he could) back into his old life. He was just about to connect with the worn metal, when it fell away from his hand, swinging inward to reveal a girl, now in her mid-teens, with a long red ponytail and bare feet.

"SPIKE-SPIIIIIIIIKE!" If Rocky hadn't been standing behind him, he would have toppled over to the ground as she launched herself at him, seemingly unaware of either her increase in weight, or his weakness. He let out an "oof" and stumbled backwards, dropping his crutches and leaning all his and Ed's weight on the poor man behind him, laughing.

"Ed?...ED?...Who's there?" A disembodied voice, familiarly gruff echoed through the portal as its owner grew closer to it, and Spike froze as he spotted, for the first time in years, his old partner.

Jet came forward and helped to peel the girl off, Rocky bending down to retrieve his crutches for him. He smiled and shook his just-about-bald head, not taking his eyes off the noticeably scrawnier, yet still strikingly unchanged man in front of him.

"You going to let us in, or are we just going to stand out here all day?" They shared a glance for a moment, and their long-time friendship was recovered in an instant. Jet stepped forward and enveloped Spike in a relieved, friendly hug, pulling back with a bemusedly puzzled expression.

"Wha...wh...how?" Spike shifted his weight between his crutches, becoming somewhat anxious since the one person he still had to see was yet to be found.

"Coma. I'll go into details later, but...where is she?" Jet grinned knowingly, although he was still confused as hell, and nodded.

"Front deck."

"Thanks." He turned, and Rocky walked over to him.

"Are you sure you"

"I'll be fine." Spike flashed him as confident a smile as he could conjure, his nerves, mostly subdued, surfacing rapidly as his heart jumped back into his throat. Rocky turned back to Jet and Ed, introducing himself and satisfying some of their curiosity for the time being. Before Spike could get too far though, Ed shouted back to him.

"Spike-person, did you have fun being dead?"

He turned back to her, an amused smile on his face, and shook his head.

"No, it was too lonely being dead. I'm much happier here, alive."

"Go on Spike, we'll leave you alone." Jet gestured forward, and Spike obliged him, shuffling to the other side of the room, and through the doorway. He made his way to the hatch to the larger deck of the ship, feeling the cold metal of the handle as he slowly put weight on it.

He heard the soft click of the mechanisms in the hatch, and steeled his nerves enough to gently pull it towards him, anticipation building in his gut so much he closed his eyes before the door was fully breached. He felt a warmth on his face, the dying rays of the sun, and held his breath. The ocean breeze coaxed him tenderly forward, and his eyes opened.


	11. Chapter 06

The smooth grain on the steel deck stood out like sandpaper as she traced it with her fingers in time with the melody she hummed. A tune so perfect it seemed classical, immortal. It held such memories for her, she knew it as a companion rather than just a song, bringing her warmth when she was desolate, a light in the dark that she could hold onto. She stopped it abruptly, her index finger pausing in its path on the floor, when she heard the suction hiss of the hatch opening slowly. She hastily wiped evidence of her tears from her cheeks, though she didn't move from her seat. Jet had seen her enough times like this, sitting alone crying, that she didn't worry, but it helped her to keep at least some dignity intact if he stayed unaware of just how many tears she'd cried.

"I'll be just a minute, Jet. Start dinner without me." Her voice wavered slightly, betraying to the most attuned listener her fragile state. She heard the hatch close gently, and resumed her humming, softer than before, as if she were protecting herself from the embarrassment of another interruption.

She didn't know her mystery audience hadn't gone back inside when the door closed. An almost-stifled chuckle reached her ears, halting her tune again and making her stiffen and blush. She was about to tell Jet to leave her alone when her intruder spoke first.

"You still sing off key."

Her breath hitched. Her eyes grew watery with tears that had only just abated, not indignant at the insult, the words themselves never registered, but unwilling to admit that the voice that had spoken to her so often in her dreams, and nightmares, had originated from the real world. For several seconds, the only sounds penetrating the drawn-out silence was the soft rumbling slap of the waves against the hull, soothing the sharp tension in the air. She swallowed.

"Have I finally lost my mind? That almost sounded real." Her voice sounded weak and lonely, like a child who couldn't find their parents, confused, and painfully sad.

Spike frowned, and he forced himself to remember that two and a half years conscious was much longer than the two and a half years he experienced asleep. He just wished she would turn around and know that he was alive. It broke his heart to see her loneliness practically radiating in waves around her. He wanted to reach out and touch her, run to her, show her he was alive, but his legs could hardly move. Coldness set in as he stood frozen in a stalemate between his body and mind, forced to watch her fall apart.

"Faye…I am real. Turn around."

"That's just what a figment of my imagination would say." She let out a frigid chuckle, but slowly stood up, still facing the sea, letting the setting sun keep her grounded in reality, refusing to give in to insanity, although she wasn't surprised it had finally broken in; it had been knocking on her door for so long. Breathing deep, she glanced skyward, wondering if the _real_ Spike could see her and knew how crazy she was over him.

"Faye, please," he was begging, whispering to her, but she shut her eyes tightly, willing her mirage to fade away and stop causing her so much pain.

"Just leave me alone. You're dead. I loved you, but you left me. You aren't coming back, and I can't start thinking you are or I'm really going to lose it. Just go away…" She spoke fast, desperately, trying to convince herself she wanted his presence to leave her; if he stayed too long she would be under his spell and never wake up.

"Faye, listen to me, I'm alive. You aren't just imagining me, I'm here, Faye. Turn around." He pleaded with her, his heart breaking with each pained word she spoke.

"No, Spike, go away. You can't come back." She tried to block him out completely, on the verge of tears again, too afraid to turn and face whatever her mind had conjured, scared to death that he would be too real for her to ignore.

"I'm here Faye, please..."

"NO! You're NOT REAL and I won't believe you are because it would kill me. Now GO AWAY."

"Dammit, Faye." His heart filled with an immense, burning need to show her, convince her he was there, gathering up his energy and walking as best and fast as he could to her, hands trembling with a mixture of frustrated anger at her stubbornness, and aching sadness and pity for her pain. He stood close to her, and she could feel his presence, though she still wouldn't believe it to be real.

"Faye…I came back. I would have come back sooner, but I've been in a coma. I did what I needed to do by confronting my demons and I'm ready now to begin a life free of my past. I survived and recovered, and it was my memory of you, Faye who helped me through when I thought I _was_ going to die, and I love you too much to see you so broken up because of me. So please, just turn around."

Every word was deliberate and forceful, alive with so many emotions she couldn't place them, and by the time he finished, she was silently sobbing, one hand drawn to her mouth.

"If you're not just in my head, then why did you say you loved me? The real Spike never told me that."

"I was stupid. I thought it would have been better once I died if you never knew, but I didn't count on coming back. I love you, Faye, and I should have said so when I could. I'm sorry."

"What about Julia?"

"Julia moved on. So have I." He grew eager, aware of the walls she had erected crumbling slowly as she started to comprehend that he was really telling the truth, but she noticed too, and built them up again.

"That all sounds too convenient to be real, only something I could have dreamed of, so sorry, you're not real."

"Shit, Faye! What do I have to do?" He answered his own question, and threw his crutches aside, praying he could stand independently, and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face him. His earnest gaze met her startled one, growing to shock, as if she expected his hands would pass right through her, being imaginary and all. His eyes panned her face, searching for some sign of recognition, but it still held a cold, stubborn ignorance.

So he kissed her. Wrapping his arms around her, preventing escape, Spike poured his entire being into her, desperate to prove his own existence. Faye was stunned, and abandoned her denial, instead focusing on the soft, yet urgently forceful feel of his lips against hers. A moment later and it finally hit her.

_He came back._

Suddenly she felt as though she was drowning; she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with even more force than he had shown her, dizzy with need and joy, hungry for any contact she could get. His knees grew unsteady and he sank down to the deck, bringing her with him. She pressed against him, and he laid back, offering no resistance to her advances. She relented reluctantly, needing to breathe, and sat back to look at him.

"Oh Spike…" She pushed a lock of his moss-colored hair out of his eyes, as she stared longingly at him, utterly elated that though she didn't want to get her hopes up at first, he was telling the truth the whole time. "You should have just done that in the first place."

She smiled wider than she had in years, her eyes glistening with tears of joy. Spike lifted a hand to her cheek, and she closed her own over it. He was still trying to recover, feeling the full weight of the situation fall upon him like a ton of bricks. Everything was the way it should have always been, he and Faye together, with their respective pasts behind them forever. He used his other arm to prop himself up into a seated position, the simple movement still straining his muscles to their limit.

As he lifted his eyes to look at her again, he belatedly recognized the absence of the sunlight was making it difficult to see her as well as he wanted to.

"It's getting dark, darling. Should we go back in?"

"As long as you never call me darling again." She responded with a grin.

"Can you get my crutches please, _sweetie_?"

"Lunkhead." She rolled her eyes as he laughed. Faye helped him get to his feet, handing him said crutches, and he leaned on her while he prepared himself to move again.

"Wow, you really did just come out of a coma." A hint of concern filtered into her voice.

"My muscles need to recover from atrophying after not moving for so long, it might take a while." He grimaced, still hating the fact that he was so helpless, feeling even more inadequate after seeing how much stronger Faye had gotten in comparison.

"Well," she adopted a suggestive smirk, something she was extremely good at, though her eyes sparkled with a genuine mischief her usual tactfully tempting expression lacks when used against bounties, "I'm willing to help out with your physical therapy. I'm sure there are some ah, exercises we could do together…"

They walked back into the ship hand-in-hand, emitting a glow of absolute content.

As soon as Rocky saw them enter the doorway, he knew his job there was done, and when he started up his car to go back to the hospital, it was with a smile on his face and a weight lifted in his heart. He knew his father would agree that his commitment to keeping Spike alive was money well-spent.


	12. Epilogue

"You need to feel the air, the wind, the energy of everything around you like a stream feels the stones it courses over. You must reach out with every sense and use them to guide your motions. Become the essence of water, and not only will you achieve victory, you will know every muscle in your body and have complete control." As if to punctuate his final sentence, Rocky stepped to the side, twisting his torso full circle in a fluid, effortless kick that passed so quickly that the air hummed in its wake. A half dozen children watched on, spellbound as he neatly recomposed himself, smiling kindly, his own eyes twinkling as he took in the open mouths and entranced expressions before him.

His father had passed away only a couple of days following Spike's awakening. Though it had been difficult, he knew that he had mourned already long before, and when his spirit passed on, a small part of him was relieved that it was over. He could finally pass on to the afterlife, instead of being trapped in a body that was too weak to hold him. A year later, he opened Raines Martial Arts, a place where he could teach his father's fighting philosophy and his own advocacy for peace, that fighting is only a last resort when it is necessary for self-defense. The years passed slowly, but peacefully, with everything in Tharsis returning to a calm state of being that had been forgotten almost completely since the syndicate wars began. It was as though none of it had ever taken place.

A handsome blonde boy, no more than fifteen years old watched from the front of the room, remembering the start of his own Joon Kee training years before. He was as much of a natural as his namesake, and had become a kind of assistant in all of Rocky's lessons. Ever since he knew the lengths to which Rocky had gone to save Spike, he felt a strong loyalty to the man who had kept his hero alive.

Peeking from underneath a mop of messy moss-green hair, a pair of deep hazel eyes were alight with wonder and determination. "I bet I can do that too, Raylei. Just watch me." The confident nine-year-old whispered to the younger raven-haired girl standing in front of him, who turned back with an incredulous expression.

"Yeah right, Shale. You'll just fall on your butt like the last time." The girl next to Raylei rolled her brown-and-green flecked eyes and flipped her dark violet hair over her shoulder, crossing her arms in front of her chest. The two girls turned to each other, giggling, as Shale turned an embarrassed pink.

"Shut up, Jade." He growled at her, turning away from Raylei's bright blue gaze.

"I know you could do it if you practiced, Shale." The pretty black-haired girl flashed him a warm smile that instantly replaced his embarrassment with more familiar feelings of self-confidence. "After all, you do have the best teacher you could ever ask for."

"What's that, Ray, sweetheart? Best teacher you could ever ask for?" Rocky laughed, feeling the familiar swell of happiness he got whenever he looked at his daughter. "Well, I don't know if Shalewould agreewith that statement, seeing as his dad teaches the advanced classes. But regardless, you all need to be paying attention, not talking during lessons. I know you and the Spiegels are friends, but keep talking and I'm going to have to split you up." He adopted a stern look to prove he wasn't bluffing. Raylei frowned and sighed stubbornly, but acquiesced.

By the end of the lesson, Shale had indeed made some headway on learning the proper way to execute the spinning kick Rocky had demonstrated, and had even managed to land on both feet once.

When Spike (the older one) arrived, he nodded a greetingto Rocky, and his kids rushed to greet him, beaming, so each would be the first to tell of their progress in class.

"So kids, what did you learn--"

"We learned this awesome--"

"--spinning kick thing and I got it--"

"--on my first try! But Shale--"

"--eventually! It was really hard--"

"--well it wasn't that hard for me and Raylei!"

"That's 'cause you're girls and you're younger so you weigh less than me. That's what Rocky said."

"He was just trying to make you feel better 'cause you weren't getting it!"

Spike paused on the sidewalk they were walking down, and crouched to their level. "Hey, don't say that. Rocky was right, Jade. It is harder for us guys to land on our feet because we have awful balance. Shale, I'm very proud of you for getting it, but I'm especially proud because you didn't give up working on it." At this point, Shale was looking rather pleased with himself, and Jade cast her eyes to the ground. "Jade, I'm very proud of you too for learning it. However, even if you do know how to do it, that doesn't mean you should stop practicing. Keep working hard, both of you, and you can do anything you set your mind to. Now let's get going, we've got company for dinner." He straightened out, beckoning the kids to keep following him, and Jade captured her father's hand with hers, excitement lighting her features.

"Uncle Jet and Auntie Ed?"

"The two and only." Jade and Shale promptly sprinted ahead of their dad, who was left scratching his head, trying to figure out why anyone should be so happy at the prospect of seeing the nice-but-a-little-scary-looking ex-ISSP-agent-turned-intergalactic-bounty-hunter and slightly...quirky hacker. Both Jet and Ed were still members of the Bebop crew, though a few new faces had been added to the mix since Spike and Faye left to settle down in Tharsis. But, because Faye didn't really have her own job, besides being a mother and helping out a bit at Rocky's martial arts studio, she found herself helping out as back-up on bounty huntsevery so often for a bit of the take, as did Spike sometimes when he wasn't working.

Intercepting the swinging door behind Jade and Shale, who had run all the way home and bounced into the dining room, Spike heard sounds of laughter and shouting echoing throughout the house.

"Do you think that maybe those two aren't the best role models for our children?" Faye leaned over the kitchen island and arched an eyebrow at the scene of Jet tickling her daughter while Ed and Shale seemed to be waging an intense staring contest.

"Well, I think of them more as cautionaryexamples than role models." Faye's tinkling laughter was added to the cacophany, which had increased since Ed and Shale's staring contest had turned into more of a shouting match of nonsense phrases. All of a sudden, Spike felt a puzzle piece click into place inside his heart, and felt a wholeness so encompassing, he couldn't describe it. Walking across the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, feeling her relax against him and lean her head back onto his shoulder.

"Everything's the way it should be, isn't it?" She asked him, a lazy smile lingering on her lips. "You've got your past, and I've got mine, but that's all behind us now. We've only got the future ahead of us."

Spike pressed soft kisses against Faye's neck as he considered his response. "Ever since I woke up...everything's been more right than I ever thought it could possibly be. I never thought I could have a life this amazing after all of the things I'd been through. I wouldn't change a thing." Faye's incredulous glare made him backpedal a bit. "Ok, yes I would have told you how I felt before going off to kill Vicious, but other than that..." Faye giggled, turning in his arms to kiss him gently.

"...EWWWWWW!" They broke off, noticing the four heads turned in their direction from the dining room, two laughing at their expense, and the others groaning and whining dramatically.

Spike and Faye laughed it off, still content in each others' arms. "Wouldn't hardly change a thing, huh?" She asked.

"Not a thing."


End file.
